Number 8 Looks Just Like Me!
by mkaz
Summary: A continuation of the classic episode "Number 12 Looks Just Like You." Marilyn has completed the transformation and is blissfully happy and beautiful, the unhappiness and unrest of her previous life behind her. As Dr. Rex said, it always works out in the end. But even the sunniest of places has dark corners. Will Marilyn find these dark places? And what will happen if she does?
1. A Post-Op Visit

Chapter 1: A Post-Op Visit

"Why, Rick dear! What a pleasant surprise!"

Rick Harven smiled at his younger sister Lana's greeting and leaned in to give her a kiss. "So sorry for dropping in unannounced, sweetheart. I just wanted to see how Marilyn was faring after the transformation." He untied his black cape and handed it to his sister's maid Grace, who quickly scuttled out of the room. "The last time we spoke she was, uh…she was…conflicted."

Lana smiled and sighed in contentment. "Yes, I remember. But she's doing quite well. As Dr. Rex promised, everything turned out all right."

"Oh! Well, wonderful! She seemed so upset when we last spoke. Going on and on about people not talking and such."

"I know what you mean," Lana replied, gesturing for Rick to sit on the sofa. "Such prattle that made no sense. I blame Jack for it, you know. Filling her head with such nonsense, and then going and dying and leaving me to take care of her."

"Well, nothing to worry about now. After all, the transformation was a success, and I'm sure Marilyn will be out on her own soon. You'll have the freedom to do whatever you want."

"Hmm, that will certainly be nice," Lana said dreamily, running a hand through her chestnut locks.

"Lana, would it be too late to visit with Marilyn this evening? I'd like to have a word or two with her."

"Oh not at all! Go on up, she's in her room."

Rick excused himself and walked up to his niece's room. He knocked on the door and heard a sweet young voice reply, "Come in!" It startled him for a moment, not recognizing the voice. But of course he remembered that Marilyn's voice changed after the transformation. It was the same change for everyone. Granted, there were various accents based on where a person was raised and lived, differences in inflections and tones – small details that even something as comprehensive as the transformation could not eliminate.

He opened the door to find his niece, now patterned after Number 8, sitting on her bed and reading the latest issue of _Electric Eyes_. She looked up at the sound of the door and gave a dazzling, perfect smile. "Uncle Rick!"

He smiled back and cocked his head to one side in admonishment. "Hey what did I tell you before?"

"Sorry. Rick," Marilyn corrected herself, embracing him. "I'm so glad you came to see me!"

"Well, I wanted to see how you were handling the transformation. The last time we talked…well, you had me a little worried."

Marilyn waved it off. "Oh, I know. Those silly fears of mine. I'm sorry I worried you with them."

"So that's all it was? Just nerves?" he asked, coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Absolutely! Why, if I'd known how happy and good I'd feel, and how beautiful I'd be afterwards…oh well, it doesn't matter now." Marilyn turned back to her magazine.

"What are you reading, dear?" Rick asked, reaching for the magazine.

"The latest issue of EE," Marilyn replied, handing it to him. "We got it from the Bureau today as part of a "Congratulations on Your Transformation" package that everyone gets. I was getting some ideas for new clothes I want to buy."

"Really? You're going to buy new clothes?"

"Well, of course I will! Have you seen the things in my closet? All those frumpy long dresses, those drab knee length skirts and such! I'll have to throw everything out and start all over again."

Rick smiled. "And you're looking forward to doing that?"

"Mother, Val, and I are going shopping tomorrow – the whole day! We are going to build my entire closet from the ground up. I can hardly wait for the morning to come!" Marilyn was practically bouncing on the bed. Marilyn spent several minutes talking with her uncle, showing him different designs that had caught her eye as well as articles about several lovely vacation packages that she was thinking of presenting to her mother.

"Well, tomorrow sounds like it's going to be wonderful. And now, young lady," Rick said, standing up and giving his niece a kiss on the forehead, "I will leave you to get the rest you need for your day tomorrow."

"Thanks, Un-thanks, Rick!"

Rick got to the door, stopped, and turned around. "You sure you're absolutely happy, dearest?"

Marilyn positively glowed as she answered, "I've never been happier. No worries! Good night!"

"Good night," Rick smiled and left the room, shutting the down behind him. As he got downstairs, he found Lana waiting for him with his cape.

"Well? Isn't she lovely?" Lana asked as she draped the cape over her brother's shoulders.

"Hmm? Oh yes, indeed she is. Number 8 was an excellent choice. Suits her very nicely."

"And have all your fears been put to rest, my love?"

Rick gave his sister a hug. "She looks very happy. Sounds very happy. That's all I wanted. I'll head out now. Give you a call next week?"

"Sure. Good night, Rick."

Lana shut the door and Rick began his walk back to his own home. He lived nearly six blocks away, but he was more than up to the task, his body being at peak physical condition for well over 20 years now. Besides, it was a warm, clear night, and the streets were practically deserted. They were so empty in fact, that Rick practically jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice seemingly out of nowhere say, "Good evening, Mr. Harven."

"Who's there?" he asked, looking around.

From the shadows of a tree, a man with Rick's face stepped out into the light. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said with a German accent.

Rick's eyes fell automatically to the man's torso, where his mandatory nametag was affixed, and read the word "Sig."

"Professor Friend," he deduced.

"Mmm. I trust you have just completed my request?"

Rick nodded, feeling slightly nervous, as he usually did in the professor's presence. "I have. You have nothing to worry about."

The professor let out a sudden burst of laughter. "We shall see won't we? We shall see. Come, let me escort you a bit of the way home and we will have a bit of a talk. Yes?"

"Of course, Professor," Rick said. The two men turned and began their walk together, their gaits practically identical.

"Marilyn – what was she doing when you went to see her?" Professor Friend asked.

"She was up in her room, reading the issue of _Electric Eye_ the Bureau sent to her."

"Good, very good. What did she say about the magazine?"

"She was using it to get ideas for clothes to buy. She's very excited about buying a new wardrobe."

"I see. And she appears…happy?"

"Yes, very happy. I asked her twice, as well as her mother."

"Ah yes, her mother. What did her mother say?"

"Lana's very happy too. They're both doing very well."

"Mmm." Professor Friend did not speak for several moments after this. Finally Rick couldn't stand the silence and spoke up.

"Professor…is there any particular reason why you asked me to visit Marilyn? I mean, I would have gone anyway, but…is there something we need to be concerned about?"

The professor smiled condescendingly. "Nothing _you_ need to be concerned about, Mr. Harven. Your report has been very helpful."

In spite of his apprehension and the professor's dismissive remarks, Rick felt he needed to press on. "Are you concerned that the transformation didn't work correctly?"

The professor was silent for a long while, and the silence terrified Rick. He had no idea what was to come next – if he'd overstepped his bounds, and whether there would be a price to pay.

Finally, the professor said quietly, "Your brother-in-law was quite the anarchist, Mr. Harven. He filled his daughter's mind with some very dangerous, subversive ideas. The transformation cut those ideas out of her mind. I want to make sure they never have the chance to germinate again."

"Well, I don't know how that could—"

"You know exactly what you need to know, Mr. Harven," Professor Friend told him bluntly. "You have done as I asked and I appreciate your report. You may go home."

Rick's eyes fell to the ground as a child who'd been scolded would have done. "Yes, Professor." He turned and started for his home.

"Oh, and Mr. Harven!" the professor called out. Rick turned around.

"My request as well as this conversation will remain confidential, do you understand?"

"Yes, of course. Good night, sir." Rick turned and walked away as fast as he could.

After Rick had left his sight, Professor Sig lit a cigar and turned to look back in the direction that he'd come. As he smoked, the orange tip of his cigar glowing brightly in the darkness, his genetically augmented eyes searched the long line of houses for the Cuberle home. He spied it, the outdoor floodlights shining in the night. Sig would keep a close eye on Marilyn Cuberle – a very close eye. His colleagues had become far too complacent with the effectiveness of the transformation. Subversion, diversion, perversion – they were always lurking at the edges of even the most pristine of societies. And one had to be ready to eradicate disorder whenever it appeared – even when it appeared in the sweetest, most innocent, most beautiful of forms.


	2. Shopping in the Isis District

**Chapter 2: Shopping in the Isis District**

Colors.

Swirls of lavender, periwinkle, mint. Splashes of saffron and peach, mingling beautifully with layers of crimson and cerulean. Waves of magenta and spicy cinnamon and sky blue. Basic black and clean white here and there of course, but it was a symphony of pigment otherwise.

This is what the streets of the Isis District, the most celebrated shopping district in the Polis, looked like to Marilyn as the automated carriage whizzed gracefully down the street, carrying her, her mother, and her friend Val to their destination. It was all the colors of the beautiful clothes the shoppers wore as they moved from store to store, like bees gathering their nectar. It was well-known that in order to shop in the Isis district, you had to be dressed to a certain caliber. You had to start with something to have everything.

"Oh Marilyn, this was such a great idea! I've never shopped in Isis!" Val exclaimed, clasping her friend's hand. Marilyn smiled in return.

"Really? Never?" Lana asked, surprised. "I thought everyone had been to Isis at least once."

"I mean, I've _been_ to Isis, of course," Val responded, defending herself. "I just never bought anything here."

Lana smiled kindly. Val's family, while being comfortable, couldn't boast of the same level of wealth as Lana's. Aside from coming from a great deal of money herself, Lana's husband Jack had left her quite a bit of money in his will as well as the money from his posthumous pension during his time with the Rocket Service. A trip to Isis was nothing to Lana, but most likely a special event to someone like Valerie. Still though, everyone was equal in spite of their station. No poverty, no homelessness. No basic wanting at all. Everyone had the chance to be beautiful and happy – even if they couldn't buy all their clothes from Isis.

"Oh! Here it is!" Marilyn exclaimed when the carriage stopped at a tall, gleaming white storefront with "Cassandra's" painted in gold. "They had some gorgeous dresses in _Electric Eyes_. Let's go see them!"

The three got out of the carriage and were about to enter when the high-pitched wail filled the air and made them turn their heads. There, across the street, was a small child of about four, standing alone on the street, his head tipped back in anguish.

"I want my mama!" he cried. "I can't find my mama! Everyone looks the same! Which one's my mama?"

"Terrible, just terrible," Lana remarked. "Why do people feel the need to bring their children everywhere? Isis is supposed to be a soothing experience. It just gets ruined by things like this."

"I don't know, Mother," Marilyn murmured, not taking her eyes off of the little boy, who was soon removed from the street by a police officer. His loud cries had simmered down to small whimpers, and he rubbed his eyes with his chubby little fist.

"Anyway, let's go in! I can't wait!" Val cried. The three women turned to go in.

As Marilyn crossed the threshold, she heard a low, soft hum in the air. She frowned, not knowing where it was coming from, but she ignored it and went in.

Cassandra's was beautiful. Soft ambient lighting, midnight blue walls decorated with ornate golden art. No clothes were on display, of course. That was far too common. It was the job of the attendant to evaluate a shopper and create a custom wardrobe just for her. No sooner had Marilyn, Lana, and Val entered the shop then they were met by a lovely young woman patterned after number 6. Her glossy black hair was styled into an elaborate braided 'do and she wore a fiery red kimono that was short enough to show off her seemingly never-ending legs. When she smiled, her ice-blue eyes seemed to glow.

"Hello, ladies," the woman purred, and it was readily apparent that this woman was not "young" at all; rather her voice had all the depth and huskiness of a fifty year old smoker. It was slightly unnerving, though not uncommon: this saleswoman must have been one of the first to have the transformation. Back in the early days, the process altered a person's appearance, but not their voice. It took some getting used to at first, hearing voices that should have come from the elderly emanating from 20 year- olds. "My name is Kat. May I help you find something today?"

"My daughter Marilyn is interested in building a wardrobe," Lana told her, laying her hands affectionately on Marilyn's shoulders. "And we would love to have an outfit put together for each of us as well," Lana added, gesturing to Val.

Kat smiled, revealing her perfectly straight and white teeth. "Of course," she said in a soft growl. "Come right this way."

She put her hand on Marilyn's shoulder, and the latter turned her head to look at the hand. "That's a lovely ring. Pearl?"

"Why, yes," Kat replied. "I've had it for a very long time. It has a great meaning to me. Ladies, why don't you wait here in our lounge? I'm going to take Marilyn into our closets and pick out a few things for her to model. Would you like some drinks while you wait?"

"I'll have a cup of liquid smile if you have it!" Val requested.

"Make that two, please," Lana added.

Kat smiled. "Of course. Oh Angela? Prepare two glasses of liquid smile, won't you?"

Angela, Kat's assistant, appeared from behind the two. "Of course. I'll be right back."

Lana and Val chatted and sipped their drinks for a few minutes until Kat reappeared in the lounge. "Well, ladies, I think we've found some lovely outfits for Marilyn. See for yourself."

Marilyn emerged from the back room, wearing a silver and black suit with knee high boots. The smile on her face glowed nearly as brightly as her outfit. "Mother, Val – what do you think?"

"Beautiful, darling!"

"Gorgeous, hon!"

"It really does suit her, doesn't it?" Kat agreed. "We have several more picked out, but we'll only have her show you a few more and then we'll work on your outfits next."

For the next half hour, Marilyn modeled the other outfits chosen for her, then waited patiently as Kat helped Lana and Val chose outfits for themselves. Marilyn gave Kat her address so the clothes could be delivered to their home that day.

"So where shall we go next?" Lana asked as they strolled the finely landscaped streets of Isis.

"We have to go to the Blue Orchid next. _EE_ said their latest fragrance is, and I quote, 'Thoroughly captivating to the senses'," Marilyn answered.

"Well, why not?" Lana laughed. "It has been a while since I found a new fragrance."

Their carriage pulled up to the Blue Orchid just a few minutes later and the three ladies got out. When Marilyn stepped out onto the road, she again her the low hum that sounded like a sustained musical note. It didn't seem very loud, and none of the other shoppers on the street appeared to be bothered by it.

"Mother, Val, do you hear that?" Marilyn asked.

Lana and Val looked at each other, confused. "Hear what, darling?" Marilyn's mother asked.

Marilyn looked behind her and then shook her head with a smile. "Oh it's nothing. Must have been a passing carriage. Let's go in."

The Blue Orchid definitely had a different design from Cassandra's. While the first shop was elegant and intimate – giving one the feeling of a private boudoir – this next shop had the typical "salon" aesthetic. The shop was lined with seemingly endless counters with high stools with shoppers consulting with sales reps, the sounds of dozens of conversations filling the air and practically drowning out the flutes and harps playing over the speakers. The air was thick with the aroma of a multitude of beauty products: hair washes that curled or straightened; lotions that produced a perpetually "just from the beach" glow on the skin; pigments to color the nails, the lips; even tonics to change the shade of the eyes.

Marilyn, Lana, and Val waited patiently at the front counter until one of the hostesses came to attend to them. She was patterned after number 14 – one of the least popular styles currently in use. Her bright red hair was pulled back tightly in a high, sleek ponytail, and she had tinted her eyes so that they were a sharp, snakelike black instead of the peridot green that came with the original pattern. "Yes? Can I help you?" she asked.

"I'd like to sample the fragrance you had in this month's issue of _Electric Eyes_ – Joyful Cloud?" Marilyn told her.

"Of course. Please have a seat at station 25. I'll have a consultant meet with you shortly."

The three ladies complied and sat down at their station. A couple of women at other stations recognized Lana and exchanged friendly nods. Marilyn and Val began looking through some of the other products being offered on the electronic catalogs, built into the countertops.

"I was thinking," Val began, "It might be nice to try a new haircolor. They have some lovely tints in here."

"What were you thinking of, dear?" Marilyn asked.

"Oh I don't know. Maybe red? I have the delicate features to pull it off."

"Oh heavens no!" Lana cried out. "What is with you children trying to make all these changes to your patterns? They were designed to be the ideal forms – why butcher them? And red, of all colors! Why, did you see the hostess? She looks like she's ready to suck the blood right out of your veins with that hair and those black eyes!"

"Oh Lana, I wouldn't go that red. Besides, it's not her fault – 14 is an awful pattern to begin with," Val said.

"Well, that's certainly true," Lana replied, leaning back in her seat. "You hardly ever see 14 these days. I wouldn't be surprised if they phase that one out."

"Oh, I heard they were," Val told them. "It was mentioned on the newsline last week."

"Oh, good. Maybe they can just alter the hair – make it not so brassy. A nice dark auburn, perhaps. And make those cheekbones less sharp. They could cut glass, for goodness sake." Lana looked around quickly as she made these remarks, just in case anyone with the 14 pattern was around.

"Well, even if they did," Marilyn interjected, "There would still be lots of people patterned as the old 14. Transformations aren't reversible, after all. They'd be…unique."

"Ah, yes, that's true. The poor things," Lana lamented. "Oh well. Not our problem."

Just then, a saleswoman patterned after number 8 and with a name patch that read, "Tina" appeared on the other side of the counter. "Good afternoon! I was told someone here wanted to sample Joyful Cloud?"

"Oh yes, I do!" Marilyn piped up.

"Wonderful! I've prepared a leaf for you," Tina held it out to Marilyn. Marilyn took it and held it to her nose, then made a face.

"Oh…that wasn't what I thought it was going to be like. May I sample something else?"

"Of course," the woman replied, her smile not fading. She reached under the counter, pulled out a different leaf, and handed it to Marilyn.

Again, Marilyn looked revolted by the scent. "Ugh – I'm sorry, I don't like this one either. Do you have anything more…well, more gentle and feminine?"

"Marilyn! This is the Blue Orchid!" Lana chided.

"I'm sure we can find something," Tina said politely, her smile beginning to tighten.

In the next ten minutes that followed, Marilyn sampled scent after scent after scent, showing distaste for each and every one, until the saleswoman's congenial manner dissipated like soap bubbles in the shower, and her big, showy smile turned into a thin-lipped scowl of irritation. She shoved the leaves at Marilyn, not bothering to tell her about the elements that comprised the scent.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance," another saleswoman said, coming up to the counter. She smiled her Number 12 smile at Marilyn and handed her a leaf. "It's a very old one, from our repository, but I think you'll like it."

Marilyn cautiously held the leaf to her nose and sniffed. She closed her eyes and felt the corners of her mouth turn upward. This was it.

"I'd like a bottle of this one, please," Marilyn told the newcomer. The two saleswomen exchanged a glance and Tina gladly sauntered away.

As the saleswoman was packaging the bottle, Marilyn spied her necklace. "How lovely," she told her. "Pearl?"

"It is indeed," she smiled, her delicate hand coming to clutch the cream-colored pendant at the end of the chain. "It has great meaning to me."

* * *

"Honestly!" Lana exclaimed as they left the Blue Orchid. "Could you have been more choosy, Marilyn?"

"Nothing but the best, Mother. Nothing but the best," Marilyn responded. Lana turned to Val for support. The girl just shrugged and gave Lana a look as if to say, "That's our Marilyn!"

They shopped for several more hours, Marilyn buying so many outfits that they had to have everything delivered to the house in one huge package. By the end of the day, all three of them were exhausted. After dropping Val off at home, Marilyn and Lana went home, enjoyed a sumptuous dinner prepared by Grace, and each enjoyed a long, hot bath.

Lana was sitting in the living room watching the newsline when Marilyn came downstairs in one of the outfits she'd bought at Cassandra's – a short, royal purple dress with bell sleeves and a plunging neckline.

"Well?" Marilyn smiled, twirling around. "What do you think, Mother?"

"Oh, it's perfect for you, darling! Blondes really do carry off blues and purples best. Is that what you're wearing for our tea party?"

"Oh goodness! I'd forgotten all about that."

"Oh you'd better not! I need your help to prepare for it tomorrow. Everyone will be there!"

"Don't worry, Mother. I'll be up bright and early to help tomorrow."

"Well, not too early," Lana replied with a dreamy smile, "I'm going out for a little while tonight."

"Oh?" Marilyn replied, surprised. "A date?"

"Oh, just drinks and dancing. Nothing serious."

"Ah," Marilyn replied. Stepfather Number 10 was most likely peaking over the horizon, but it was too early to ask. "Well, have a lovely time, Mother."

"Thank you, darling." Lana glanced at her daughter's dress. "I think this is a little too dark for an afternoon tea. Perhaps the silver and black one you first tried on?"

"Oh, that's a great idea! Well, I'm going to bed now. Good night, Mother."

"Good night, Darling." The two women kissed each other and Marilyn went upstairs to her room.

Just a few minutes after Marilyn went to bed, there was a knock on the door. Lana jumped up from her sofa, went to the mirror to give herself a quick check, then opened the door.

"Lana," Dr. Rex purred, looking her over. "You look lovely tonight."

She blushed. "Thank you, Dr. Rex."

"Oh just Rex, please," he said, putting his pinky to his mouth. "Well, are you ready to go, my dear?"

"Absolutely! I'll just grab my cape. Please, come in."

Lana brought the cape over to the doctor, smiled shyly, and turned around so he could drape it around his shoulders.

"I must say," she began, "I was a little surprised when you called me. I thought you would have forgotten all about me by the time Marilyn's transformation was complete."

"Forget about a beautiful woman like you? Never," Rex assured her. "Come, I made us reservations at Oracle. Shall we go?"

"Absolutely," Lana told him, taking his arm. He escorted her to his carriage, and off they went.

Rex smiled to himself. This was his first date since he divorced his fifth wife, and he was excited. He hadn't considered asking Lana Cuberle on a date – she didn't seem like she was the type to date doctors and scientists - but now he was very very glad that Professor Sig had convinced him to contact her. The professor had been right – she was very lovely. Dr. Rex knew Sig would be very glad to hear he'd taken his advice.


	3. Afternoon Tea

The titanium serviceware had been laid out precisely to instructions. The petit fours – Grace's special talent and one of the few things she did to Lana's exacting standards – were carefully displayed on the serving tray. The nano-tropes were arranged and were blooming beautifully (who needed the hassle of caring for real flowers, anyway?), the colors lush and radiant. Five different teas were brewing in the kitchen, sending out their spicy, fruity perfumes into the air. Everything was ready for the well-over-a- dozen guests who were attending the afternoon tea that Lana and Marilyn were hosting.

However, quite a large dilemma had reared its ugly head less than a half an hour before the guests were due to arrive.

Lana stood in front of the gilded, floor length mirror in her bedroom, in quite a state of despair. "Oh dear…I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Really, Mother. It looks fine," Marilyn argued. She was sitting behind her mother on her luxurious canopy bed.

"Fine isn't good enough!" Lana retorted. "I wore this suit last year to the bot-races! What if one of them recognizes it?"

"No one will recognize it. And even if they did, what's the harm? You wear this well. Red has always been your color."

Lana sighed and smiled. "I suppose you're right, darling. Hmm…what if I add an accessory to it? Like a belt or something?"

"Oh, that's a lovely idea! What about this silver scarf?" Marilyn asked, walking over to the dresser and pulling it out. "It will be a nice compliment to my outfit, and besides…Father always liked to see it on you." Marilyn seemed to blush slightly when she said this.

"Oh…that old thing," Lana remarked, picking it up and then tossing it on the bed again. "Too flashy for an afternoon tea. I need something that says, "Simple, yet elegant." She thought for a second. "I know! The gold belt Edward bought me during our trip to New Paris! That will be perfect."

Edward had been Stepfather Number Three. He wasn't around for terribly long, though longer than some of the others. He'd made it one month past the honeymoon before Lana had grown tired of him. In spite of this, she had no problem keeping all the gifts he'd lavished on her. The gold belt had been one of the smaller gifts. The biggest was probably the electronic sailboat that Lana kept docked at the beach. She hardly ever used it, but that wasn't the point. It was about the ownership, about being able to brag about her sails over the sea.

She pulled it out of her drawer with a smile, and handed it to Marilyn. "Help me put it on, won't you, darling?" she asked.

"Yes, Mother," Marilyn murmured, and quickly helped her fasten the gleaming circlet.

Lana turned from side to side, admiring her total outfit. "Yes, this is lovely." She looked over at Marilyn's retreating figure. "Something wrong, Marilyn, dear?"

"Just going to do a last minute check!" her daughter called cheerily from the hallway. Lana shrugged and went back to her self-adoration.

It seemed as though every invited guest arrived at precisely the same time. The doorbell chimed once, and they flowed swiftly into the house like grease through a colander. Elaborate hats, flowing capes, jewelry glimmering on hands, necks, and ears all merging together, aiming unanimously at their hostess and her daughter.

And the greetings, laced with platitudes, were no different. One after the other, all nearly the exact same words, repeated over and over again, from seemingly the same three or four people.

"Lana, darling! Don't you look lovely!"

"Oh, Mary, thank you, honey!"

"Oh Lana, the house is splendid!"

"You're too kind, Bridget."

"Marilyn, sweetheart! Number 8 suits you perfectly!"

"Thank you, Anna."

"Well, doesn't the tea just smell delicious!"

"And isn't this just the perfect day for tea-time! Not a cloud in the sky!"

Little by little, all the guests came in and were ushered into the glass-enclosed sun room. The tables were laid out so that each family had their own table, but their placements were close enough to allow intimate conversations. Lana and Marilyn took their place at the first table, the one closest to the entrance. Lana had arranged it so they were sitting with Ella Landridge from Diamond City, Anna Carrol and her daughter Alex, and Daisy Bullet, the head of marketing for the Super Soccer Association. Ella was a close friend of Lana's, so that was a given. Lana didn't particularly care for Anna or her daughter, but Anna was close to Daisy. Lana had long wanted to make inroads into the world of sports entertainment, hoping to both increase her social popularity and to find a potential husband for Marilyn. By inviting Anna she could demonstrate to Daisy that they were practically part of the same social circle.

Grace did her duties to the letter, serving the tea and cakes at the precise moment and attending to the guests as needed. The chatter at the tables was gentle, yet lively. Lana sipped her tea with a small, prideful smile and winked at Marilyn, who smiled back.

"These cakes are a pure delight, Lana!" Ella announced. "You really must allow me to bring Grace's recipe home. My own cook – bless her heart – appears to have been born without tastebuds."

"It would be my pleasure, Ella dearest," Lana replied. "Grace may not be the brightest bulb, but she does know how to make an excellent spread. And that is so very important, after all."

A light snort of disdain was heard in response to Lana's remark. She frowned and turned her attention to Alex Carrol, who was slouched in her chair, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. The girl's lovely face was screwed up into a scowl.

"Is something wrong, Alex, sweetheart?" Lana asked kindly.

The girl opened her mouth to say something, but a hard look from her mother stopped her. Instead, she gave a sweet, false smile and said, "Why no, Mrs. Cuberle, nothing at all."

"Lana, please." Lana had to be careful about speaking to this girl. She couldn't afford to lose her temper – Daisy Bullet was sitting just a few feet away, taking it all in. "I'm so very glad you were able to accompany your mother to our tea."

Alex shrugged. "Didn't have a choice. Mom made me."

"Alex!" Anna chided her. She turned to the others at the table with a guilty smile. "You'll have to excuse my daughter, ladies. Alex hasn't…been herself lately. She's just a few months away from undergoing the transformation, and she's just a little nervous about it."

"I'm not nervous," Alex snapped. "I don't want to do it. Why should I?"

"Alex, please—"

"Well, why? That's all I'm asking, Mom!" Alex had now raised her voice enough that some of the women at the other tables had stopped their conversations and were looking at her.

The girl ran her hand through her glossy auburn curls in frustration. "I just don't get it. I don't need it! I'm just as beautiful as any of you – but _naturally_," Alex put emphasis on the last word to show her condescension. "I could understand if I was fat, or ugly, or deformed or something. But I'm not! I won the genetic lottery. I have a beautiful body because I'm an athlete and I take care of myself. No one can outrun me or beat me at any sport!"

A few chuckles were heard from the other tables when Alex made that comment. Women weren't athletes – at least, not after the transformation. Athletic bodies – bodies with defined muscles – simply weren't appealing on women. The transformation ensured that every woman had the same measurements, the same amount of muscle tone, the same body mass index. Women were molded to be the delicate, graceful, soft creatures intended by nature. It followed, naturally, that women didn't play sports or compete in athletic competitions. Those sort of rough things were only acceptable in a girl's childhood – before she knew better.

"Dear," Ella explained, "the transformation isn't just about improving your appearance. It prolongs life, and slows aging. It also has eliminated many diseases that—"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all," Alex interrupted rudely. "There's a course we gotta take in school about how wonderful the transformation is. I'd be all for it, if they'd just leave my face and body alone."

"You know, Alex," Lana interjected, finding her opportunity, "Marilyn didn't want to have the transformation either. But she realized how important it was, and now she's very happy. Aren't you, Marilyn?"

"Oh, absolutely! Alex, I know how hard this all is, really I do. But everything will work out in the end, I promise." Marilyn's comments were met with smiles and approving nods all around. Alex rolled her eyes but said nothing.

"Special delivery!" Grace called out from the doorway. The guests turned to see Lana's maid pushing a cart with an obscene amount of nanotropes, all lit up like a Christmas tree. Marilyn got up and took the card from Grace, and read the note silently to herself.

"Well, darling? Who are they from?" Lana asked.

"Dr. Rex Cerebrus," Marilyn announced with a sly smile. Suddenly a rush of oohs and ahs swept through the room. Lana smiled and blushed, getting up to retrieve the card from her daughter.

"Dr. Rex? _The_ Dr. Rex?" Daisy Bullet asked, clearly impressed.

"Yes. It was a very kind gesture to send the 'tropes," Lana said demurely. She read Rex's words to herself: _Just wanted to send you a little something to let you know I'm thinking of you. Had a fantastic time last night. Enjoy your afternoon tea. Yours, Rex._

"They're dating," Marilyn added with a cheeky smile.

"For now," Alex muttered under her breath, then winced as her mother pinched her arm.

"We've only gone out on one date," Lana told the room, but she knew that the rumors would start now, and she was tickled to death. "He's such a lovely man," she added for good measure.

"I'll arrange the 'tropes, Mother," Marilyn offered.

"Oh, I'll help! My mother was a tropist, you know," Daisy Bullet offered, rising gracefully from the table to join Marilyn.

"Oh, Daisy you don't have to—" Lana started.

Daisy held up her hand. "Not a problem, not a problem at all. You've organized a lovely party, Lana. It's the least I can do. Come Marilyn sweetie."

Together the two women began pushing the cart into the kitchen. Lana turned back to her table and just barely heard Marilyn complimenting Daisy on her pearl brooch.

The party progressed quite smoothly after that. Lana spent most of the time chatting with Ella and visiting the other tables to speak with the other ladies. Anna Carrol's bratty little daughter mercifully kept her mouth shut for the rest of the time. Lana was surprised, however, at how long Marilyn and Daisy Bullet were off in the kitchen by themselves. Still, it had to be a good sign that they didn't return right away. When they did come back, Daisy returned to their table in good spirits, and Marilyn more or less the same, albeit a little quieter than before.

When the two hour mark came, the guests understood their duty and promptly began making the move to exit. Grace retrieved the capes for the ladies, having them ready to drape across the correct shoulders each time. Lana and Marilyn stood by the front door and bid their farewells to each guest, receiving the expected compliments on the house, the food, their looks, and the overall party.

When it was time for Anna to say goodbye, she gave Lana a sheepish look and thanked her for inviting her.

"It was a lovely party, Lana. You do such a fantastic job," Anna told her.

"Thanks very much, Anna dear," Lana smiled.

"And you look gorgeous today! I do adore that outfit. I've loved it ever since you wore it to the bot-races last year," Anna remarked, then turned pale when she realized her faux pas and saw Lana's full lips press together.

Alex giggled and took her mother by the arm. "Smooth, Mom. Really smooth," she said, ushering Anna out. Lana shot Marilyn an annoyed look and continued to dispense with their guests.

Daisy Bullet remained behind, and she seemed to be waiting for the other guests to leave to make her exit. Lana's heart thumped in anticipation as she noticed this, and barely heard her guests' departing respects. When everyone was finally gone, Daisy Bullet held out her hand with a smile.

"Thank you so very much for inviting me, Lana. I had a wonderful time," Daisy told her.

"It was lovely to have you, Daisy. I hope we'll be able to see each other again."

"Well…that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Marilyn and I were talking in the kitchen, and she's quite the super soccer fan."

"Is she? Really?" Lana turned to look at Marilyn with an incredulous smile. The girl merely smiled and shrugged.

"Oh yes. I rarely find someone so young who knows so much. So I was wondering if you and Marilyn would care to join me for brunch at the Field tomorrow."

"That would be excellent!" Lana cried out, trying not to sound out of breath. The Field was a highly exclusive club for those in the sports entertainment business. You couldn't set foot in there unless you were in the sports industry in some form or another, or a very lucky guest of someone in the industry. It was coming together. Lana's plans for Marilyn and their family were all fitting together like pieces to a puzzle. They just had to play this brunch just right and doors would be opening left and right for them.

Daisy smiled kindly. "I'll have a carriage sent around for you at say, 10:30?"

"We'll be ready! Thanks for thinking of us!" Marilyn piped up. With that, Daisy said goodbye and left.

Lana shut the door and practically floated to the sofa. "Ah, think of it! Brunch at the Field tomorrow!"

Marilyn sat next to her mother and smiled. "Yes, it will be nice. But right now, I'm exhausted!"

"Oh dear, don't even say the word! I love entertaining, but it takes so much out of you!" Meanwhile, in the kitchen the clattering of pans and the rushing of water could be heard as Grace began to clean the dishes and clear the tables.

A few hours passed, and Lana and Marilyn still hadn't left the sofa, even having their dinner there. Eventually Marilyn turned on the viewer and set it to the game, thinking that it might be good preparation for their brunch tomorrow. Lana agreed and had Grace bring them glasses of instant smile to unwind with.

The maid had just put the glasses on the table when the doorbell rang. Lana tilted her head up slightly. "Good heavens, who's calling here now? Are you expecting anyone, Marilyn?"

"No, Mother."

"Shall I get the door, ma'am-Lana?" Grace asked.

"Must I tell you to do everything, Grace? Yes, yes, go get the door!" Lana snapped.

When the maid opened the door, Professor Sigmund Friend and two agents from the Bureau walked in. Lana and Marilyn stood up at once. "Professor Sig!" Lana greeted him. "What brings you here?"

"Ah, Mrs. Cuberle, I apologize for stopping by unannounced, but there is a small matter we need to attend to." The professor smiled charmingly at her.

"Please call me Lana. And that's perfectly fine. You'll excuse the condition of the house. We just had a party."

"Nothing to apologize for, not at all. I'm actually here because of Marilyn."

"Marilyn?" Lana turned to look questioningly at her daughter, who looked just as surprised as she.

"Yes, it's true. Marilyn, do you remember when we last spoke? Before your transformation?"

"Yes…I do. We spoke about my fears about having the transformation done."

"Yes, precisely. You told me that your father gave you some books, do you remember that? Shakespeare, Keats, Shelly, Dostoyevsky, yes?"

Marilyn appeared confused for a moment, then smiled and said, "Oh right, those silly old dusty things my father gave me before he died. What about them?"

Professor Sig's smile made him look like a tiger about to pounce. "You remember I told you those books were banned many years ago? That means that you have illegal property in your home. I'm afraid I must confiscate it."

"Well…if it's illegal, then it has to be done," Lana said. "You understand, don't you, Marilyn?"

"Oh, go right ahead," Marilyn said with an easy smile. "My father used to keep them in his study on the other side of the dining room."

The professor looked slightly bemused, but he nodded to the agents and they proceeded to the study. He turned back to the women. "I'm very sorry, but it must be done."

"Oh, we understand perfectly," Lana said with a smile. "I'm sorry for any trouble it's caused. Might I offer you something to drink?"

"Oh, no, no, I'm fine, thank you. I will go join my agents now." Professor Sig got up, gave one last look to Marilyn, who had turned her attention back to the game, and went into the study.

The three men were in the study for nearly an hour, searching each and every corner for illegal material. Marilyn watched the game intently, finishing off her first glass of instant smile and buzzing for Grace to bring her another, and then another a few minutes later. Finally the agents emerged from the study carrying several boxes out of the house. Professor Sig came up to the two women, who stood to meet him.

"Once again, I apologize for the intrusion. It had to be done," Sig told them.

"Of course it did," Lana replied generously. Marilyn didn't answer, but smiled sleepily, the effects of three glasses of instant smile having settled heavily in her system.

"We were able to clear everything out, so you won't have any more trouble. That was everything, wasn't it, Marilyn?" Sig asked her pointedly.

"Oh yes, Professor. Father kept all his books in there," Marilyn murmured.

"Hmm. Well, good. If you do happen to find that your father's illegal materials found its way anywhere else in your house, let us know immediately, yes?"

"We most certainly will. Good night, Professor." Lana walked Sig to the door and shut it behind him. "Well! That was an odd way to end a night! I do hope this incident doesn't get back to Daisy Bullet somehow. That could ruin all of our chances of getting into her circle."

"Mmm," Marilyn mumbled. She was sitting on the sofa again, her eyes heavy-lidded.

"For heaven's sake darling, go to bed. I want you refreshed for our brunch tomorrow."

"Yes, Mother." Marilyn dragged herself off of the sofa and slowly climbed the stairs to her room.

Lana sighed and turned off the viewer, leaving the dirty glasses for Grace to pick up. She was about to go to her room when something made her stop and turn back. She went to her husband's old study, curious to see what the room looked like now.

Sig and his agents had practically stripped it clean. The shelves, the walls were bare. The desk had been cleaned out. They'd taken everything Jack had ever written or read with them when they left. The only thing that caught Lana's attention was a photo lying on the desk. It was a photo of them together, at some gathering or another, before they'd each had their transformation. Lana had had tight, curly hair, a naturally sour-looking face, and wide, heavy hips that were a cruel mockery to her flat chest. Jack had huge teeth that spilled over his lips and deep, red pock marks on his cheeks and chin. His arms and legs were gangly and seemed too long for his body.

Lana scowled when she saw the photo. Why had Jack kept this? They had been hideous back then. Why remember such an ugly, painful time of their lives? She suddenly felt a burst of energy, and she removed the photo from the frame, ready to tear the glossy paper in half and toss it into the receptacle like the trash it was.

But she didn't. Instead, she looked at it again for a little while. She then folded it up several times, until it was a little square. She put the square in one of the drawers of her husband's desk, carefully shut it, and promptly went upstairs to bed.


	4. Brunch at the Field

_The ball was sailing through the air, making that beautiful half-whistle, half-whirling noise that balls make when they've been thrown with the perfect curve. The whistle-whirl ended abruptly with the dulled smack of landing in a baseball glove._

"_Great!" Marilyn's father exclaimed as he caught the ball she'd thrown. "Okay, here it comes. Ready?"_

"_Ready, daddy!" Marilyn cried out._

_Jack Cuberle pulled back his arm and gave a tight throw, hard enough to reach his seven year-old daughter standing twelve feet away, but soft enough that it wouldn't overwhelm her. The ball landed in her outstretched, gloved hand, but promptly bounced out, hitting the ground and beginning to roll. Marilyn chased after it frantically, as if it was imperative to not allow the ball to touch the ground for too long._

_She finally scooped up the ball from between the blades of grass and looked up at her father, pouting. "I didn't catch it," she complained._

"_You didn't this time, but you will," Jack consoled her. "Come on, it's almost lunchtime. Let's break for now." They left the abandoned field that sat nearly a mile away from their home, walking through the tall grass to the road. Jack took his daughter's hand in his. "Your strength is in your throwing, Marilyn honey. We just need to work on catching."_

"_But I want to be perfect like the players on the feed!"_

_Jack sighed, throwing an arm around his daughter. "Honey, those people playing on the screen aren't using their muscles alone. They have biomechanical suits that enhance their abilities. We talked about this, remember?"_

"_Yes. I know," Marilyn replied. "But they could play good even without them, right?"_

"_Well, yes, they probably would. They all started out like you, most likely – playing catch and throw with their fathers."_

"_So…if I had a biamek-mek-"_

"_-mechanical…"_

"_Right! So, if I had one of those thingies, I'd be a better player too?"_

"_Marilyn…you shouldn't dwell on the things you can't do. You have a natural talent for throwing, just like you have a natural talent for acting, and reading, and lots of other things."_

_Marilyn thought about this for a while as they walked. Then suddenly she stopped in her tracks, ready to tell her father her great idea. "I know what I'm going to do! When I grow up, I'm going to get so good at playing baseball that I won't need one of those suit-things! Then I'll go and play on one of the electric baseball teams and beat all of those other guys in the suits! Then people will go back to playing the real thing, in grassy fields like this one!" She beamed with pride at her great idea._

_Jack did not answer. Marilyn frowned and looked up at her father, who was staring straight ahead, the look on his face intense, as though he were trying to bring a very distant object into focus. "Daddy?" Marilyn asked in a small, timid voice. "Isn't that a good idea?"_

_Jack sighed, and stopped in the middle of their walk, his grip on Marilyn's hand bringing her to a stop as well. "Honey, only men are permitted to play electric baseball. That's why the only players you see are men."_

"_But why, Daddy?"_

"_Well…it's the rules. Women don't play strenuous sports like baseball professionally."_

_Marilyn's brow creased in confusion. "I don't understand. If a girl could play just as well as a boy, why can't she play?"_

_Jack looked up to the sky for a while, as if he were looking for the right answer among the clouds. Finally he said, "It's part of our culture, Marilyn. Our traditions. Traditionally, men have been the ones to play sports, and women haven't, because men are usually physically stronger. Many of our laws have been written to reflect this."_

"_Oh."_

_They were nearly to their house, so close they could smell something being prepared for lunch, and could see the outlines of Marilyn's mother and their maid moving around. Before they got to the door, Marilyn stopped her father by squeezing his hand. He looked down and smiled gently, kneeling down to her level. _

"_Daddy," Marilyn whispered confidentially. "Maybe I could change things. Maybe someday…I can make it so that girls can play electric baseball too. Couldn't I?"_

_Jack smiled sadly at his daughter, pulling her into a hug. "I think if anyone can change the world, it would be you, sweetheart."  
_

Marilyn opened her eyes.

The moment she woke up, the dream she had been having slipped away, like water through a sieve. She couldn't remember exactly what the dream was about or what she was doing in it, but she knew how it felt. It was…a warm feeling. Something gentle and beautiful, but also sad. She shut her eyes tightly, trying desperately to remember what she'd dreamt. But it was gone, only leaving that heavy feeling in her heart.

Today was important. Today she and her mother were going to have brunch with Daisy Bullet, whose influence in the world of sports entertainment would (hopefully) ensure the inroad that Lana Cuberle had been dreaming of for some time. What Marilyn wore would be important. What she said would be important. Even what she ordered from the Field's fashionably limited menu would be important.

Fortunately for Marilyn, her mother already took all of this into account. Lana was throwing open the door to Marilyn's room just as the girl was throwing her legs over the side of the bed and sitting up.

"Oh Marilyn! You aren't even dressed yet!" Lana admonished her. "Come on, come on! Get dressed and come downstairs. Grace is making a special protein drink with a side of instant smile."

"Yes, Mother," Marilyn replied sleepily, stifling a yawn.

Lana stared at her. "Well?"

"Well…what?"

Lana twirled around. "My suit, dear! It's the new one I bought from Cassandra's. Super Soccer yellow!"

Marilyn smiled. "It's lovely."

"Hmm. Yes, it is. Get dressed now."

When Marilyn came downstairs, she found her mother polishing off her drinks and watching the sports feed. Lana's smile at seeing her daughter faded slightly. "Darling…aren't you forgetting something?"

Marilyn looked down at her hands. "No, I don't think so."

Lana's smile got wider. "Your nameplate, dear."

Marilyn felt a blush come to her cheeks as she looked down at her unadorned torso. Once you underwent the transformation, a nameplate was a necessary part of your wardrobe. To go outside of your home without wearing one was the equivalent of walking around in public without shoes. It wasn't indecent, per se, but it was improper and awkward. How would people know how to address you if you didn't have one, after all?

"Oh," Marilyn sighed.

"Don't worry about it, darling. It's normal to forget sometimes when you first undergo the transformation. The most important thing is to remember."

Marilyn returned to her room, opened the top drawer of her wardrobe, and shuffled through the stacks of nameplates issued by the Bureau. She fished one out and held it up, reading her name as it was spelled out in the bold, black, sans serif font commissioned exclusively for State documentation.

She'd been named after a famous actress who'd lived nearly a century earlier. Her father had chosen the name for her, but not because he wanted his daughter to be associated to that level of physical beauty. It was because Marilyn Monroe, his daughter's namesake, was quite intelligent. She took her acting seriously and tried refining her craft, but her efforts were always overshadowed by society's desire to see her as nothing but a sex symbol. Marilyn's father wanted the best of both worlds for his daughter: to feel beautiful and desirable, and to be appreciated and respected for her mind.

But Marilyn didn't want to think of her father right then. She slipped the nameplate into the slots sewn into her dress, smoothing it across her taut belly. Now the world knew she was Marilyn, a girl modeled after Number 8.

Lana smiled when Marilyn returned. "Much better, darling! Come have your drinks. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that today the four bite rule is essential, do I?"

Marilyn shook her head in acknowledgement. The four-bite rule was a rule of etiquette that all women adhered to. Take no more than four slow bites of your dish and leave the rest. Eating any more than that was considered gauche and rude. It was irrelevant if a woman was still hungry after four bites. It was more important to appear graceful and delicate. You put the empty, gnawing feeling out of your mind, and you smiled graciously as they took your plate away with the morsels you so desperately wanted to devour. You used sheer willpower to keep yourself from raiding your pantry once you were at home alone. It didn't matter that no one would know—_you_ knew.

Once they finished their drinks, Lana made them watch the sports feed to pass the time until the carriage arrived to take them to the Field. She wanted to be ready for any topic of conversation they might have with Daisy—ready to dazzle her with any and all trivia about supper soccer, electric baseball, sonic ball—whatever their talk might bring.

The carriage Daisy sent for them arrived promptly at 10:30, flying gracefully along the Hyperion superhighway—a route that Lana and Marilyn rarely had the occasion to use. The superhighway led to the arts, entertainment, and broadcasting districts. Lana caught Marilyn's hand in a death-grip of excitement. "Oh, darling, just look! The avenues! The studios! All of those athletes and reporters, the models – just walking around! And we're right here, like one of them!"

The carriage parked right in front of the admitting gates and a uniformed attendant patterned after number 15 came around to the window. He smiled cooly. "Yes? May I help you?"

Lana spoke in a high, clear voice that she hoped didn't give away her nervousness. "Lana and Marilyn Cuberle. We have a brunch date with Daisy Bullet."

The attendant looked over the tablet he was holding. "Oh yes, here you are. If you'll come with me, I'll escort you in."

Lana and Marilyn left the carriage and followed the attendant into the club. It was magnificent – a triumph of modern landscape architecture. Lush, nanotrophic fields laid out with every athletic court imaginable. Walking trails that wound around pristine, cerulean lakes. And there was one white brick building overlooking a waterfall that had a balcony with dozens of tables and chairs. Diners lounged and drank liquid smile, sparing the occasional glance over to the fields where the athletes were playing.

"Follow me, please," the attendant told them. Lana eagerly followed him, with Marilyn following as closely as she could in spite of that low hum in the air providing an unwanted distraction.

At the far end of the dining room, Daisy Bullet was waiting for them. Dressed superbly in a white leather suit studded with silver beads, she stood as she saw them arrive and gave a dazzling smile.

"Lana! Marilyn!" she called warmly. She air-kissed each of them and motioned for them to sit. "I hope you don't mind…I went ahead and ordered our platters ahead of time. They should be arriving soon. Coming here almost every weekend means I've practically memorized the menu. I wouldn't want you to choose something you won't like."

"What a kind gesture, Daisy. Thank you," Lana gushed. Marilyn smiled weakly and stared off at the balcony.

"So, what is your favorite sport, Lana?" Daisy asked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs—her trademark pose when interviewing athletes.

"Oh, without a doubt, super soccer!" Lana exclaimed, knowing the right answer to the question. "I've been a passionate fan for many years – even before Marilyn was born. My first date with her father was going to the '80 San Salazar game in Dominicus, you know." This was a blatant lie, actually, but it didn't matter. It's not as if Daisy would know the difference.

"Really?" Daisy asked, interested. "That was the first game I coordinated for! I remember it like it was yesterday. Our star player had just undergone the transformation, and oh, what a trying time it had been for us all…"

Lana and Daisy continued their conversation, oblivious to the fact that Marilyn had stopped paying attention completely. She was fixed on something happening on the field just below the balcony. Their food arrived soon after, but Marilyn was still staring out at the field.

"Marilyn?" Lana asked sharply. "Our food is here."

Marilyn did not answer. She stood up suddenly, and without a word, turned and ran towards the stairs. She flew down the stairwell and bolted toward the open field.

"Marilyn!" Lana cried. "What on earth?"

"Where is she going?" Daisy asked as they both got up from their seats and began to follow her.

"I have no idea! I'm sorry, Daisy, she's never done this before!"

The two women started down the path to the field, following Marilyn's steps. The players who were on the field noticed the intrusion and had stopped their games and cleared a path for them. As she neared her daughter, Lana reached out to clasp Marilyn's shoulder and turn her around.

"Marilyn! What do you think you're—" Lana stopped short when she saw what Marilyn was holding in her arms.

It was a pubbit, a genetically engineered animal created by splicing the DNA of seven different dogs with a rabbit. As a result of the engineering, the pubbit looked perpetually like a puppy, with large teardrop eyes, floppy ears, and impossibly soft fur. This particular puppit had snow white fur and blue eyes – an incredibly rare version of the breed, even by breeding standards. Whoever owned this pubbit had money, and lots of it.

"I saw him scamper onto the field," Marilyn explained. "I'm not sure who—"

"Zeus! There you are!" a noble-sounding male voice cried out. The three women turned to see a stunningly handsome young man sprinting toward them.

"Oh, it's Kyle!" Daisy said.

Lana's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Kyle? You don't mean…"

"Hi! Kyle Darren," the blonde young man greeted them with a brilliant smile. "Zeus! How did you ever get away from me?" He held out his arms and Marilyn tucked the tiny creature into them.

"He's beautiful," Marilyn told him.

Kyle looked up at her and smiled. "Thank you. And thank you for finding him for me. He's my mother's. She would have been heartbroken."

"Yes, she would have!" Daisy agreed. "Kyle, darling, I didn't know you were going to be at the Field today!"

Kyle leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Sorry, Aunt Daisy. It was just a spur of the moment thing I decided to do."

With his honey blonde hair, ice blue eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and perfect aquiline nose, Kyle Darren was gorgeous, even in a world of gorgeous people. He was modeled after Number 1, a pattern rarely seen amongst the general population. The pattern's rarity wasn't due to its undesirable appearance, as in the case of number 14; it was because number 1 required a certain status level in order to merit the choice. Only famous celebrities, sports icons, and other notable figures in high society were acceptable recipients of the pattern. And while everyone was free to choose whatever pattern they wished, choosing certain patterns was most definitely discouraged. In fact, the bureau would only send certain patterns to people about to undergo the transformation depending on their social and economic status.

So naturally Marilyn and Lana were awestruck when they saw Kyle. For his part, Kyle seemed just as taken with Marilyn. "I've never seen you around here before. Are you new to the Field?"

"A guest of mine, Kyle," Daisy interjected. "Marilyn is quite the super soccer fan."

"Really?" Kyle said, his smile almost blinding. "What team do you cheer for?"

"The Lionhearts, of course," Marilyn answered with a blush. The Lionhearts were the team Kyle belonged to, naturally.

"Of course," Kyle replied. "But why is that?"

"Because you have an excellent defense, and your goalie performs perfect extension dives at a higher rate than any team in the federation."

Kyle Darren looked surprised for a moment, then chuckled. He was the goalie for the Lionhearts. Marilyn had just secured herself a very secure and enviable spot in his affections. "I'm impressed. Why don't we take Zeus for a little walk around the fountains, and we can talk more about your love for super soccer."

Marilyn giggled and blushed into her shoulder. "I'd love to—that is, if it's all right with you, Mother? And Daisy?"

"Of course, darling! Of course!" Lana cried out, just a little too eagerly. "I'll meet up with you later."

Lana watched dreamily as Marilyn walked off with Kyle. The wheels in her head began to turn as she thought of all the possibilities, all the outcomes of that simple walk her daughter was taking with the fetching soccer player. She was so engrossed in her thoughts that Daisy had to get her attention twice.

"Oh, I'm sorry. What did you say?" Lana asked.

"I was saying that I'd love to have you and Marilyn attend a little cocktail party I'm hosting at my loft tomorrow night. It's to celebrate Kyle's mother's anniversary."

Lana's jaw dropped. "Kyle's mother? You mean…Kelly Darren?"

Daisy nodded, smiling. "Oh yes. It was 30 years ago that she was chosen by the Bureau to be the official model for the Number 2 pattern. She was the second one. The first one was….well, the first one, obviously."

"Well, we'd love to join you! What time?"

"8 o'clock. I'll send the carriage around for you. Shall we finish our brunch?"

Lana readily agreed, although neither woman actually ate anything else (they both had already had their required four bites). Instead they simply sat at the table, chatting. Lana learned that Daisy was close to Kelly because they'd both been married to the same man at different times: Evan Darren, Kyle's father. Kelly had been married to him first, and when they'd divorced she'd introduced him to Daisy, believing they'd make a very handsome couple. And although Evan and Daisy divorced less than two years later, they'd all remained very good friends. It was one of the advantages to everyone marrying everyone else: jealousy had become so unnecessary it was archaic.

Marilyn and Kyle met the two women at their table less than an hour later, and Daisy informed them that they'd all be seeing each other again the following evening.

"Sounds excellent!" Kyle exclaimed. "I need to be heading home. Mom's going to be missing Zeus. I guess…I'll see you tomorrow," he said shyly to Marilyn.

"I guess so," she replied with a demure smile. "And Zeus too!" she added, affectionately scratching the pubbit's soft head.

"Yeah. Thanks again for saving him for me."

"The pleasure was all mine. Bye!" Kyle flashed another brilliant smile and strode away.

"One step away, I'm telling you, Marilyn! Just one step away!" Lana said to her daughter as they rode home from the field. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that absolutely nothing in our closet is worthy of the party tomorrow night. We're getting up early tomorrow and shopping at Isis. In fact, I'm going to make an appointment to have a consultant meet with us the moment we get home. Oh, and I'd better call Rex and see if he can go as my date. He'll definitely make us look good! I can't wait to call Ella and give her the good news. Hopefully she'll share it with that big-mouthed idiot Anna Carrol…"

As Lana chattered on, Marilyn suddenly realized something. It was a quiet conclusion that came out of nowhere: she remembered what she'd dreamt the night before.

* * *

"Here are the latest diagnostics, Professor," Dr. Rex said as he placed the tablet on Sig's desk. "There's still a great deal of experimentation left, but these preliminary results are promising."

"Mmm," Sig grunted non-committedly as he read over them. "We need to ensure that this new procedure is marketed very carefully. We might get a good deal of pushback from the family council. We need to be prepared."

"Very true. I have a call in to Daisy Bullet about it. I'll also see if I can work it into the conversation when I see her tomorrow."

"Daisy Bullet? The sports agent?" Sig asked, obviously not impressed.

"That's her main focus, yes, but she has connections everywhere, in every market, and we're going to need all the support we can get."

Sig gave his hearty, trademark laugh. "True enough, my friend! So you're seeing Daisy tomorrow, eh? I thought you were dating Lana Cuberle."

"Oh, I am. She's going to be my date for the cocktail party Daisy is having. It seems her daughter made quite the impression on both Daisy and Kyle Darren."

Sig grimaced. "Kyle Darren? You mean, Kelly Darren's son? And Marilyn Cuberle?"

"Yes…" Rex tried not to cower away from Sig's dark frown. "Is there…something wrong, Professor?"

Sig slowly allowed a cool smile to take over his face. "Not at all, Doctor. Why don't you head home? It's late. We'll pick this up tomorrow morning."

Dr. Rex nodded in agreement and bid Sig a good evening. Once he'd left the building, Sig picked up his earbud and made a call.

"Kelly, darling! How are you, it's Sig! I had to call and wish you a very happy 30th anniversary! Oh my pleasure, my pleasure, darling! So are you doing anything special for it? Oh you are? Daisy—such a lovely woman to do that for you. We must get together and celebrate too! Come to the cocktail party? Are you-are you sure I wouldn't be intruding? Well, then…yes of course! I'd love to celebrate such a proud milestone. 8 o'clock? I'll be there. Oh, and I'm so looking forward to seeing your handsome son Kyle as well. I'm sure he's got quite the busy life these days. I can't wait to hear all about it…"


End file.
